What Do Butts Do For You?

Most Read

I'm referring to cigarette butts in the title.

For me, I've probably smoked half a pack of cigarettes in my life. For some reason, now that I'm a mother, I stay far far away. I'm afraid that my "only at parties here and there" would easily morph into a habit. It feels too relaxing... too much of a temptation to soothe the nerves at the end of the day.

As far as my take on the sexy aspect, to me a smoke means freedom. I have fond memories of squeezing onto a barstool after a late night TV show taping. "Want a smoke?" my writing partner would occasionally ask me. One beer in, it was hard for me to say no. Did I look like a virgin at a Rocky Horror Picture Show, attempting to look accomplished but reeking of gawky, shallow inhale ingenue? Sure. But he was too busy smoking and chatting to notice. Or if he did, he kindly allowed me to bask in the exuberance of youth.

Even now, if I'm out to dinner with Rex, I have no problems sipping coffee in an outdoor Starbucks right next to a young smoking crowd. If the scent smacks at all of clove I'm a goner. If it weren't for my monogamy stand you might find me straddling some teen's lap. That's how much I adore that smell.

It's so weird, because I know smoking causes cancer. I've kissed guys with nicotine breath and it's about as enticing as Rex feels after I've drunk a pot of Yuban over a three hour period. And yet, something about a guy in jeans... music playing.... the hint of an exciting future mixed with smoke - it gets me every time.

President Obama has often mentioned his own struggle with smoking. And if any of you have followed my columns, you know that I'm just a little bit hot for our President. The idea of him as a good father, a powerful leader, a decent human being AND the occasional puffer to unwind? Inhale... exhale... yes yes yes.

In closing, I remember way back to when I first started dating Rex. We had just left a Greek restauarant, where I'd bummed a cigarette off my sister. I knew Rex despised smoking, and when he came up behind me unexpectedly, I literally dropped a flaming stick onto the ground. In a flash it crossed my mind "This could be it!" Instead, he laughed and said, "You don't do that all the time, do you?"

"Hardly ever," I answered, which was the truth.

That night, something smoked, and it wasn't a cigarette. But if I could put something nightly into my mouth (not that, you pervs) believe me, I'd love to. Or, put a "C" in front of that "love" and I'd CLOVE to.